To Drive a Man Insane
by theoneshotter
Summary: Ivan Braginski was not always insane. Once upon a time, he was the second father to a little girl who's fate was sealed on July 17, 1917. History knows her name- Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov


**A/N: This was my first Hetalia fanfiction. I found it on my computer, and have decided to continue it. This is the first installment of three. It's my theory as to how Russia became the psychotic (**lovable**) freak (**cutie-pie**) that he is today! Enjoy~**

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Part I

Russia, 1908

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"Ivan, will you tell me a story?" The little princess grabbed my hand as I stood to go. I had to smile at her wheedling tone.

"Of course." I returned to my seat beside her bed. "Once, there was a little girl. A girl about your age, actually."

"What do you mean "about"? I'm eight. Couldn't her parents count to eight?" I suppressed a chuckle.

"Don't be so quick to judge,_ lapochka_. Her parents knew how old she was, certainly. At that time in history, age was not as important as it is now. People did not keep strict records." Anastasia opened her mouth to question farther. "Am I allowed to finish, or will you continue to interrupt?" The speed at which she snapped her mouth shut was almost comical. "Now lay back down, how will you ever get to sleep if you are sitting up like a dog waiting to be fed?" I gently tugged on her shoulder to enforce my words. She reluctantly let her head drop to the pillow and turned on her side to face me, an expectant look in her eyes.

"Continue." She commanded. I raised an eyebrow. "Please." I laughed and ruffled her auburn hair.

"Remember that I am not your servant, Anastasia. Address me as you would your father."

"Yes _Mr. Braginski_." I rolled my eyes, which provoked a giggle from the Grand Duchess.

"I do not know how your family puts up with you, _durnya_! All right, where was I? Ah yes, this girl was named Joan. She lived in a tiny town in a part of France that, at the time, was ruled by another king. France was at war with England, and had been for a very long time.

One day, Joan went into a field to think. She had many siblings, like you, and she had grown weary of the noise. I'm sure you understand." The Tsar's daughter continued to watch me intently, her blue eyes still wide with energy. "No? But of course, how could I forget. **You** make most of the noise around here." She grinned at me impishly.

"Anyway, Joan was not alone in the field that day. She sat beside a stream and looked up at the sky, expecting to see nothing but clouds. What she **did** see, however, was mystifying. Three saints danced against the blue. Their Holy light dimming even the mighty sun. They called out to Joan, and told her that she would do great things."

"What great things did she do?" The little duchess sat up again in excitement.

"She learned not to interrupt when someone was telling her a story!"

"Ivaaaaan!" She whined, shoving at me playfully. I caught her wrists and gently pushed her back down.

"Do you want me to tell the rest?" She nodded vigorously. "Joan grew into a lovely young lady, the image of the three saints still on her mind. When she turned sixteen, she asked to be brought in front of the French king so that she could tell him. The town laughed at her. But this maiden was destined for great things, she soon found herself dressed in armor, leading the king's army to battle. Most of the battles, she won."

"What happened to her? Did she get married to a handsome prince?" Anastasia attempted to stifle a yawn, without success.

"I'll tell you the rest some other time, you need to sleep, little one." I brushed her hair away from her forehead as she blinked sleepily.

"Please, Ivan? I promise I'll go to sleep straight away." I couldn't resist the begging look in her big blue eyes.

"_Da_, I'll tell you the rest. She was captured by the enemy and tried for crimes she did not commit. They burned her at the stake." Anastasia was silent.

"Why?" She finally asked in a small voice. "Why would someone do that? She was innocent. You can't kill an innocent person."

"People do, little one. It is very wrong, but people do. Goodnight." I leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I pulled her into a hug, settling her into my lap. She buried her face in my shoulder

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" Her voice was slightly muffled.

"_Da, prastite_. I'll be back soon though."

"Why must you always leave?"

"You are not the only person in Russia, Nastasya. I have to visit everyone else, too." She sighed heavily and crawled back under the covers without being told.

"It's not the end of the world, I'll come back, I promise."

"Pinkie swear?" She held out one royal pinkie.

"Pinkie swear." I wrapped my large rough finger around her little one. "_Spokojnoj nochi_."

"_Poka_."

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**Lapochka- "darling"**  
**Durnya- "goofball"**  
**Malenkaya- "little one"**  
**Da- "yes"**  
**Prastite- "I'm sorry"**  
**Spokojnoj nochi- "good night"**  
**Poka- "bye"**


End file.
